“It’s only a wild idea—one I’m surprised you haven’t fumbled upon yourself. Has it not occurred to you that Israeli assassins have been in the news a great deal lately? There were two attempts on the life of Dr. Ibrahim Hamedi this summer. Iran put the blame on Mossad.”

“Don’t they always?”

“Of course. But we did receive a report from Interpol that identified one of the men in the most recent assault. He was former Israeli Special Forces, almost certainly working for Mossad. Taken together, I’d say that puts him pretty close to your friend. He was a kidon.”

Sanderson said nothing.

“Well?” Almgren prodded.

“It’s not much, but I see what you mean. I suppose it bears looking into.”

“Iran’s development of nuclear-tipped missiles is Israel’s overwhelming concern. So maybe that has something to do with what’s been going on in Stockholm.”

“Is SÄPO pursuing this angle?” he asked.

“No. But I think somebody should.”

“Somebody. Maybe a retiree with nothing better to do?”

“Could be. Just to be a good sport I’ll see what I can dig up on Dr. Hamedi.”

“Yes, that might help.”

“And don’t forget, Arne—you owe me another Flying Horse Chipotle Burger.”

*   *   *

Iran’s Guardian Council was housed, for the day’s business, in a nondescript building outside Parliament’s contemporary pyramid—an eye-catching and useless place in both form and function.

Behrouz felt strangely alone as he walked up the broad central staircase. He answered this call on a regular basis, and the timing of today’s summons was in line with the usual reporting schedule. All the same, a worm of anxiety squirmed in his gut.

The council was already in session when Behrouz arrived, and he was ushered directly in, the members breaking away from less pressing business to give him an immediate audience. Taking the lone seat that faced the long table, he saw he was up against a full contingent of twelve—altogether, a disquieting lineup of dark robes and white turbans.

After cursory words of greeting—along the lines of what one would give a rarely seen neighbor—the chairman said, “Tell us of your preparations for Geneva.”

Behrouz was ready. “Our forward team has arrived at the embassy in Bern, and is now finalizing arrangements. They will secure the hotel well in advance of Dr. Hamedi’s arrival. We are coordinating with both the local police and Swiss national forces. The United Nations venue is well suited for lockdown during high-profile visits.”

“And the other? This ‘reception’ as they call it?”

“The local authorities are confident they can secure the area. The Swiss have a great deal of experience in hosting diplomatic events. And Dr. Hamedi, for all his importance, is hardly so much a target as the president of the United States or the queen of England.”

“That,” said another of God’s self-appointed emissaries, “is a matter of perspective.”